Bunduki (Bunduki Series Book One) (13 page)

‘
Here,
my lord!’ Elidor said and held out the carcass. Cold anger
flickered across Charole’s face. She knew that Elidor’s behavior
while making the collection was a deliberate affront to her.
However, she was too curious about the arrow to take the matter
further. Instead, she advanced until she was between the woman and
Dryaka. In doing so, she forced Elidor to take a pace to the rear
and presented her back to the brunette. She was, nevertheless,
confident that her faction would warn her if Elidor made any
attempt to take advantage of the opportunity she was
offering.

Watching the by-play between the
women, the High Priest darted a prohibitive glare at Elidor.
Although there was a red flush to her cheeks, she read his meaning
correctly. So she kept quiet and stood still.

Plucking the arrow free, Dryaka tossed
the dead bird aside. Slowly he rolled the shaft between his
fingers, staring intently at it. Then he ran the ball of his left
thumb delicately over the tip and cutting edges of the four-bladed
point. Having done so, he grasped the shaft at the cresting and
just below the point, flexing it to an extent that would have
snapped any other arrow he had ever seen.

‘
What
kind of wood is this?’ the High Priest said, half to himself, as he
felt the arrow’s supple strength and watched it return to its
former shape when he relaxed his grip. I’ve never seen the like of
it.’

‘
Let me see,’ Charole
requested and it was indicative of Dryaka’s puzzlement that he
complied without hesitation. On receiving the arrow, she started to
get an inkling of exactly what he meant. However, she could not
help yielding to her natural inclination to try and discount any
statement made by her rival. It’s just ordinary painted
wood.’

‘
Just
ordinary
painted wood?’ Dryaka challenged.

‘
Yes,’ the Protectress
confirmed and, seeing that the rest of the party had moved to
positions which allowed them to watch what was going on, she
grasped the shaft at each end. Starting to bend it, she continued,
I’ll show you.’

Much to her amazement, Charole
found that the arrow would bend but not break. She heard Elidor’s
snigger and grimly set her teeth. Laying the shaft across her left
thigh, she applied added pressure, but with no greater
success. Wild with
fury, she jerked out her sword. Taking no notice of the brunette,
who backed away a couple of paces and reached towards her own
weapon, the Protectress slashed at the arrow. The razor sharp blade
bit in at an angle and cut it in two.

‘
There!’ Charole spat out, hoping that she was sounding more
triumphant than she felt as she held out the segment which remained
in her hand.

‘
But what kind
of tree did this come from?’ Dryaka insisted, taking and staring at
the hollow tube of fiber glass with an understandable lack of
comprehension.
‘
I’ve
never seen wood like it.’

‘
Or me,’
Charole conceded, having sheathed her sword and retrieved the other
piece of the arro
w. Examining the razorhead as the High Priest had
done, she went on, ‘Nor have I seen an arrow’s head to equal this
one for sharpness.’

If Dryaka felt any satisfaction at
hearing the Protectress’s admission, he gave no sign of it. In
fact, he hardly seemed to be aware that she had spoken. His eyes
went from the portion of the arrow in his hand, via the section she
was holding, to Tomlu’s body. When he looked up, there was more
than a suggestion of worry on his face. Charole experienced no
pleasure at this evidence of his perturbation, although under
different conditions she would have done. She knew what was
disturbing him and she shared his concern.

Dryaka was a ruthless and
ambitious man. Born in a
grar-gatah
riding family, he had clawed his way upwards until
attaining his present status. The social distinctions of the
Mun-Gatah were controlled by physical prowess, but rising was far
from easy. Apart from becoming a member of the Council of Elders
when a vacancy occurred, he could go no higher. While subject to
the Council’s control, he had plans for his own and their nation’s
aggrandizement beyond anything the six Elders suspected. In fact,
outside of his immediate supporters only Charole knew—although he
did not suspect it—that he wanted to conquer and rule all the
nations with whom his people came into contact. She had learned by
seducing, then murdering—making it look like an accident—one of his
most loyal supporters.

In the opinion of the Council (when
answering Dryaka’s tentative proposal), going to war against the
various fighting nations—as opposed to raiding them and dealing
with their retaliatory attacks—would be too costly to be
contemplated. Not to the Mun-Gatah warriors, whose metal helmets
and leather breastplates gave considerable protection if not
complete immunity, but to their mounts. Many of the zebras were
sure to be killed in the battles, as enemies frequently shot or cut
them down to make their riders fight on foot. Such losses would
displease the Quagga God and He would not give His people the
blessing they required to be assured of victory.

Less enamored by the religion of his
people than the members of the Council of Elders, although he
realized its value as a means of controlling and dominating the
population, Dryaka considered that the loss of the animals would be
a small enough price if he achieved his desires. He had been
confident that, with the aid of their protective clothing and
superior organization, the Mun-Gatah could defeat every other
nation in turn.

The meeting with Dawn had caused the
High Priest to revise that conclusion.

From his first view of the
girl’s bow, Dryaka had sensed that its unusual design made it
exceptionally powerful. That it had killed Tomlu was
very
convincing evidence
of its full potential.

Until coming close enough to
examine the scout’s body, the High Priest had not appreciated just
how unusual and powerful the tawny-haired beauty’s weapon must be.
Certainly the ‘wood’ from which the arrow had been constructed was
a very strange kind, but vastly superior to
that used the nations with whom
he was acquainted. Nor had any of them possessed arrowheads of such
high quality.

Apparently the mysterious ‘Suppliers’,
whose identity and purpose Dryaka had never been able to discover,
had seen fit to equip the ‘Apes’ with weapons that were far better
than those given to any other nation. The though gave rise to
another that was even more intriguing.

What if Dawn should be one of
the ‘Suppliers
’?

Such a supposition would explain why
Dryaka had never heard of her nation by its true name. It was also
likely that their own arms would be far superior to those supplied
to other people.

If Dryaka’s theory should prove
correct and he captured the girl, the secrets to which she might be
a party would be of the greatest value. He felt sure that, once he
had her in his power, he could make her divulge all her
information.

Even if the High Priest was wrong in
assuming that Dawn was one of the ‘Suppliers’, holding her would
still serve a very useful purpose. Recollecting what she had said
about her people being great archers, he could see that they might
be a major barrier against his plans for dominance. Apart from the
Amazons, the other nations tended to regard their bows as tools for
hunting rather than as weapons of war. When fighting, they relied
upon swords, war-axes, clubs or spears and shields. So the long
lances wielded by the mounted Mun-Gatahs generally out-ranged the
arms of their enemies. That would not apply to the ‘Apes’. If their
warriors were so minded, their arrows would slaughter the
Mun-Gatahs long before the lances could reach them. So having Dawn
as a hostage would be of use in dealing with her
‘father’.

‘
I wouldn’t care to fight
against her people, whoever they are,’ Charole remarked, cutting in
on Dryaka’s train of thought.

‘
Or me,’ the High Priest
conceded, darting a glance at the woman to see if there might be
some deeper meaning to her comment. He had never been entirely
satisfied that Lagdok, to whom he had told his plans, had been
killed by accident after having attended a banquet at the home of
an Elder. Charole had also been a guest and the man had always been
susceptible to feminine wiles. However, reading nothing in the
beautiful features, he went on, ‘Of course, there’s no reason why
we should have to.’

Before Charole could reply, a
rider appeared on the ridge beyond the chasm. Reining his
lathered
banar-gatah
to a halt at the edge, he yelled and waved a hand.
Identifying the newcomer by his small size and scarlet tunic as one
of the Council’s messengers, Dryaka scowled. Letting the section of
the arrow fall, he stalked to his quagga and mounted it. Moving
almost as quickly, but retaining the portion of arrow which she had
been examining, Charole returned to her mount and boarded it. They
rode towards the chasm together and the rest of the party
followed.

‘
What is it?’ the High
Priest demanded, on reaching the chasm.

‘
Zongaffa sent me to ask you
if you would return to the camp immediately, my lord,’ the
messenger answered.

‘
Why?’ Charole
asked.

‘
That he did not tell me, my
lady,’ the small man replied.

Although
the Protectress had failed to
gather any information, she sensed that Dryaka was relieved by the
message. So he was. When he had seen the messenger, he had wondered
whether the Council of Elders had heard and taken exception to the
orders he had given to the People-Taker. As yet he could not claim
sufficient support to challenge the authority of the Elders and
must yield to their desires.

The news the High Priest had been
given was interesting. It implied that there were developments in
something which he believed could be important and very useful.
Ever since Zongaffa, the aged herbalist, had made an accidental
discovery, Dryaka had Relieved that it could be put to practical
and effective use. Perhaps the herbalist had discovered a means of
doing so. If that had happened, Dryaka wanted to hear about it as
soon as possible. There was only one problem. By returning to the
camp, he would lose any chance of capturing Dawn and learning her
secrets.

Looking
at the man who had come from
his place of concealment, Dawn Drummond-Clayton took stock of the
situation and reacted swiftly. Although she had been taken by
surprise and was startled at his appearance, she was not unduly
alarmed. He was holding a spear, but the shape of its blade and its
thick handle suggested that it was better suited to thrusting than
throwing. What was more, as he was a good thirty yards away and she
had already started to arm herself, she did not consider him to be
too much of a threat.

Letting go of her shoulder-quiver, the
girl scooped up the bow. Having done so, she liberated an arrow
from the quiver that was attached to it. Setting the shaft on the
handle-riser’s arrow rest, she nocked the slot at its end to the
string without taking her eyes from the man. Straightening and
adopting her shooting posture, she commenced her draw.

Clearly the man knew what a bow
and arrow was. He had started to move forward, but came to a halt
as the
four-bladed point was lined on his chest. While he did not
have the clothing or appearance of one of the zebra riders, Dawn
felt disinclined to take chances. So she retained her weapon at its
position of readiness.

Holding the fletching at its
anchor point, the girl studied the man. Six foot in height, he had
brown skin, black hair cut after the fashion of Prince Valiant and
pleasant features which reminded her of the Polynesians she had met
during her travels. Broad shouldered and heavily muscled, he did
not slim down at the waist as well as Bunduki. For all that, he did
not convey an impression of being slow and cumbersome. His only
garment was a loincloth of jaguar skin. At the left side of its
belt hung a sheathed knife. Thrust through a loop on the right was
a strange weapon like a short handled pole-axe. The small,
hammer-like head was backed by a long, narrow, slightly curved
spike. Dawn decided that it resembled a
czdkan
^xxxi
Matching his height, the spear had a
stout handle with a strong cross guard attached about two feet
below a head that looked as though it had been made from the blade
of a knife.

‘
Who
are you?’ the man inquired and once again the girl found that she
could understand what was being said.

‘
My name is Dawn,’ she
replied, allowing the bow’s string to go forward under control but
ready to draw it again if the need should arise. ‘Who are
you?’

‘
I am one who
is called At-Vee, the Hunter,’ the man
answered, without making any
attempt to move closer. ‘If you are one of the People-Taker’s
escort—’

‘
I’m
not,’ Dawn assured him. ‘In fact, I don’t know who the
People-Taker is.’